#mirage.

Tagged by @sapphicscholar. Thank you very much. <3

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

the pressure of roshan's five-fingered grip around the upper, unarmored part of his arm is firm and strong, allowing no protests. still, basim believes he could yank free with an ease unfit for his rank—there's an easy path of low-roofed buildings below them, rising shallowly from the street line, studded with footholds to make a quick descent. he could be as fast as a sheen of sunlight, kill the guards before they may react; and he turns to his mentor to tell her all of this, at the cost of sounding like a petulant child, but she meets his eyes and still she reins him back.

you taught me how to do it, basim wants to object, though his lips are sealed under the folds of his shemagh. don't you trust your own teachings?

deep down, he knows why roshan refuses to intervene. they're so heavily outnumbered that there's no way to finish this quietly—and putting up a fight would alert the man they have been so closely stalking across the busy district. a merchant rich enough to delegate his safety to a small militia, whose passage cleaves into the intimidated crowd like a prow through flat waters. crouched on the roof above them, basim watches the last pair of guards cross the maximum range for a leap and a quiet kill. the crowd washes around them as they enter the suq, swallowing them like a tide. only their pointy helms gleam faintly in the spots where sunlight filters through the curtain-roofed entrance of the market.

soon that gleam is gone as well, and his mentor's grip loosens.

"we lost our chance."

roshan makes a huffed noise. not quite a reprimand, though it faithfully matches his unpursued intent. when basim turns to meet her steel-pale eyes, expecting severity but finding them veiled with her unmistakable kind of sharp amusement, the lines of her cheekbones risen in the faintest hint of a smile, he gets the ugly feeling of having been tested. a test for his patience, perhaps, or his ability to follow orders. his dark brows furrow in understanding.

"you wanted to see what i would do." he doesn't care to polish the accusation in his tone. "well played, mentor."

"Send in the Clowns” describes Anita’s relationship to Legends Mirage and Octane: 

“Numbnuts! That’s what Mama used to call guys like that. You know the type. Big jokes, big trucks, big wallets…. they need all that big to cover up what’s small. I got four brothers. Real gentlemen, raised with respect. They don’t have to woo-hoo their way through a battlefield like it’s a joke and they’re the punchline. Sorry. Laughtrack. The only punchline is you’re going home in a box.

霞む蜃気楼が 君を見せるよ 進んだ先に何が起きても負けはしない覚悟で

奇跡は起こる信じる心 迎えにきた勝利の女神が すべてを倒す どんな強者(かべ)にも怯(ひる)まない 迷い続ける2つの心 色褪せることない世界へ 今 輝くよ 重なり合ったeyes

I announce the end to the days of licking each other’s wounds and quietly stand up I’ll always keep the promise I made with you on the night when we lit the tiny light

A hazy mirage projects an image of you No matter what happens beyond where I go, I’m determined to never lose